Head In the Clouds
by VictoryNike
Summary: James Potter finds himself at the brink of a promising Quidditch career in the midst of a burgeoning war and his final year of magical schooling. When he is forced to choose between his Quidditch dreams and The Order of Phoenix, will James realize that while Quidditch leaves his head in the clouds, maybe what he needed all along was someone to keep him grounded?
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** _James Potter finds himself at the brink of a promising Quidditch career in the midst of a burgeoning war and his final year of magical schooling. When he is forced to choose between his Quidditch dreams and Lily, will James realize that while Quidditch leaves his head in the clouds, maybe what he needed all along was someone to keep him grounded?_

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**Disclaimer:** The characters, setting, background story, etc. all belong to JK Rowling.

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Chapter 1

_Cirrus_

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_Cirrus clouds are thin and wispy, composed of ice, and are high in the sky. _

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"Ready?"

"Ready."

James Potter tucked his Quaffle under his arm as his father spun his wand, charming six Bludgers to fly at him simultaneously.

James shot forward, spiraling out of the way of the first bludger, turning his broom sideways to avoid the second. _Four to go_. The hoops at the end of the pitch grew larger as James streaked towards them. The third and fourth bludger approached him from either side. He dived toward the ground to evade them, and swerved sharply to the left as the fifth bludger hurtled in his direction.

James grinned. _One to go_. He transferred the Quaffle from his armpit to his hands just as the sixth bludger appeared out of nowhere. James ducked just in time; he could feel the Bludger ruffling his untidy black hair. _Shit._

James swore as he turned a corkscrew before chucking the Quaffle perfectly through the middle hoop. James landed on the grass in front of his father. Charlus Potter crossed his arms.

"What in bloody_ hell_ was that?" he demanded, prodding James in the chest with his wand.

Despite the fact that his father was now a good two inches shorter than him, James couldn't help but feel rather small in front of his furious father. "It was that last bludger...I couldn't see it coming." he muttered.

"You didn't see it coming." Charlus repeated, narrowing his eyes and furrowing his graying eyebrows. "You didn't SEE IT COMING?! Now you tell me, how are you ever going to make a decent team if you don't see the bloody bludger coming?"

James clenched his teeth as his father continued to yell. How could he have made such a fundamental mistake? They were doing Bludger drills for Merlin's sake! If he couldn't watch a Bludger when that was all he had to worry about, how could he expect to watch them when he was playing in an actual game?

Finally, Charlus sighed. "Son," he said softly.

James shifted his gaze from the ground to his father's face.

"You have potential, James. I was on track to make it to the big leagues. Then I had my injury," Charlus rubbed his shoulder wryly. "but _you_, James, there is nothing that is going to stop you, son. Nothing."

Charlus clapped James on the back and headed back across the sloping lawns towards the Potter mansion.

James climbed back onto his broom for one last fly around the pitch. Quidditch practices with his father always left him in need of a moment to himself. James found his thoughts drifting back to when it all began. The day James had told his father he wanted to play professional Quidditch, he had been seven years old. James would never forget the proud grin that spread across his father's face.

Charlus had refused to hire a coach for James, choosing instead to train James himself. Ten years of his father's incessant 5 AM practices during school vacations had made James quite the player. And he knew it.

And yet...James thought as he landed lightly on the grass, kicking the turf angrily, his father held him to impossibly high standards. Since that day when James decided to be a professional Quidditch player, no matter how hard he tried, James had never been able to bring that proud smile back onto his father's face.

James shouldered his broom and headed towards the house.

"Hey mate, how was Quidditch practice?" called Sirius lazily, lounging in a chair at the table, plate piled high with food.

James punched Sirius lightly on the shoulder in response and gave his mother a one armed hug. "Good morning, Mum."

Dorea smiled at her only son, her eyes crinkling in the corners. "Eat any less and I swear you'll blow away," she teased, handing James a plate of food.

"Oh no he won't," muttered Charlus from behind the latest copy of _The Daily Prophet_. "He would have made a fantastic seeker...then he cracked a hundred and thirty pounds." Charlus looked up from the paper to glare at James.

"It's all muscle, Dad," James grumbled, taking a big bite of toast. "Thanks to you." he added under his breath.

"James worries more about his weight than a girl," Sirius commented grinning, tilting his chair back on two legs. James aimed a kick at him under the table.

"With good reason, too" Charlus added. "He would have made an amazing Seeker, I tell you..."

"_Okay_, Dad, we get it." James said, fed up.

"Boys, boys." Dorea said calmingly. "Look what came in the post today."

She held up two familiar envelopes, one addressed to Sirius and the other to James in emerald ink. She passed them to Sirius.

"The last ones we'll ever get, can you believe this?" James murmured, feeling strangely nostalgic as he took in the Hogwarts crest stamped into the wax seal.

"Hey." Sirius said, weighing the envelopes in his hands, "yours is heavier than mine."

"That'll be the Quidditch Captain's Badge, I expect," Charlus said, turning to the Sports section of the _Prophet_.

But Sirius had already begun tearing open James's envelope.

"Oi! That's mine!" James said in mock annoyance.

"There-There must be a mistake." Sirius said, eyes wide, staring into James's envelope.

"Don't tell me they didn't give him Quidditch Captain!" cried Charlus, suddenly concerned.

"Charlus!" scolded Dorea, "I'm sure there are plenty of other capable captains!"

"No. No that's not it," Sirius said, laughing. "Get a load of _this_."

Sirius threw something scarlet and shiny across the table to James. James examined it. He saw now that it was a badge. Emblazoned across it in gold letters were the words-

"Head Boy?!" cried Dorea, hands over her mouth in surprise and awe.

"Impossible." said Charlus, lifting his head from the Daily Prophet.

"I'll bet Moony sent it to mess with us." Sirius guffawed. "A step up from his usual pranks, I'll admit, but not good enough to fool us!"

"Yeah I bet," James agreed, tossing the badge onto the table. He had been stupid to think, even for a moment, that he had actually been Head Boy. He hadn't even been a prefect, how could he get Head Boy? Not to mention the record setting amount of detentions he had racked up. There was no way Dumbledore would ever give him Head Boy. Although he would never admit it, James's heart sank slightly in disappointment. Especially since Head Girl would undoubtedly go to...

James shook his head slightly to clear it. This was his last year at Hogwarts. He was going to play pranks and Quidditch without any other care in the world, besides NEWTs, but he would tackle those when he came to them. James reached for the envelope and fished inside for his letter. As he pulled the sheet of parchment from the envelope, a more delicate piece of paper covered in loopy script fell from within it.

_Mr. Potter,_

_I am pleased to inform you that you have been selected to be this year's Head Boy. Although I am aware you have never been a prefect and your past behavior has been questionable to say the least, I have faith in your ability to lead and your dedication to your house and your school. Please journey to the Head's Carriage on the Hogwarts Express on September the 1st to discuss your duties with myself and your fellow Head Student._

_Yours,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

There was no denying Professor Dumbledore's handwriting and mannerism. James bit back a smile.

"I knew you could do it!" exclaimed Dorea excitedly, ruffling James's hair.

"YES!" yelled Sirius, "Now we can dock points from the Slytherins whenever we want to, and we can play pranks without getting punished now we've got both Remus and you as Prefect and Head Boy!"

"Now Sirius," said Dorea sternly, "you boys behave, you hear?"

"Sure thing, Dorea," Sirius said, waving her off affectionately. Dorea sighed hopelessly.

James stared at the note, a slight smile on his face. "Who d'you reckon is Head Girl?" he asked in what he thought to be a casual manner.

"Who d'you _reckon_?" Sirius echoed grinning. "James you liar. You know as well as I do who'll be Head Girl."

James feigned innocence. "Who?"

Sirius laughed. "Lily Evans, of course. I'll bet you're looking forward to spending all that time alone with her during all those head meetings...and patrols..."

"Lily Evans?" Dorea interrupted smiling. "The red-headed muggle-born one?"

"You mean the one James is crazy about? The one he talks about all the time?" Sirius added gleefully. James sent him a particularly vicious kick beneath the table.

"Don't tell me you're still interested in this girl, James." Charlus said suddenly, fixing James with a penetrating stare. "You don't need distractions at this point. Think of Puddlemere!"

"Well she's a very sweet girl," said Dorea anyway.

"You've never even met her!" Charlus exclaimed.

"Well the way James always talks about her..."

"This is exactly the kind of thing that could throw off James's entire career! And for what? Some girl!"

"When you've all finished discussing my love life," James interrupted loudly, "Sirius and I are going to Diagon Alley to catch up with Remus and Peter."

James and Sirius rose.

"I want you back on the pitch in an hour. Seems that you need more practice than I thought." Charlus said, pulling the paper back in front of his face.

"Sure, Dad." James said carelessly, shoving open the door.

The sun glinted unexpectedly brightly off of the Head Boy's badge still in James's hand. He glanced at it, thinking ridiculously of the matching one undoubtedly meant for Lily. Perhaps she was holding it in her hand at this very moment, wondering who was Head Boy...

"Oi, Lover Boy! Are we going or what?" Sirius's voice jolted James out of his stupor.

"Coming, Padfoot, you git." James grinned and dropped the badge carefully in his pocket.

"Let's go."

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**Author's Note: **Following the amazing bout of writer's block I suffered for the past six months-okay, nearly a year-I've managed to begin a new, hopefully much more interesting story.

Fun Fact: The chapter titles for this story are going to be mostly types of clouds, and will reflect the amount of trouble/how heavy each chapter is. The better the weather, the happier the chapter. The more troublesome the weather...well, the more troublesome the chapter! Happy reading :)

Stay tuned for the next chapter, hopefully soon.

So tell me how I did! Be it good, bad, horrible, or unbearable REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW!

Thank you.

Yours,

VictoryNike

6/19/13


	2. Altostratus

**Disclaimer: **The characters, setting, background story, etc. all belong to JK Rowling.

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Chapter 2

_Altostratus Part One_

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_Altostratus clouds are gray or blue-gray. They cover the entire sky, or patches of it, and precede rainy storms._

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James felt the tension as soon as he stepped into the kitchen, like a thick fog hanging over the table.

"Sit down, son." said Charlus, unusually heartily, indicating the chair across the table from him.

Wiping the sweat from Quidditch practice off of his brow with the edge of his shirt, James sat. It was rare that Charlus gave James his full attention off of the Quidditch pitch. Dorea stood at her husband's shoulder. Her smile seemed oddly strained. James wondered, alarmed, if someone had died.

"Where's Sirius?" asked James instantly. It was odd for Sirius to be absent so close to lunchtime.

"He went out." Charlus said shortly. "Never mind that now, James. Your mother and I have some things we'd like to discuss with you."

"What things?" James asked stupidly. He suspected that there had been an argument that had ended just before he walked in. He shifted his gaze from his father to his mother, who looked suddenly at the table top.

"Regarding your Quidditch career." Charlus said, sitting up straighter, suddenly business-like. "Read this."

Charlus flipped through the morning's edition of _The Daily Prophet_, tapping a short, obscure article on the second page of the Sports section before sliding it across the table to James.

The top of the page was creased. James could tell his father had flipped to this page several times, possibly to reread the article repeatedly.

**James Potter: Big League Material or Simply Uncommonly Good?**

_by Rita Skeeter_

_Despite the buzz created by the supposed up-and-coming Quidditch star, James Potter, we have yet to see if he is really all he's been made out to be. Several Quidditch greats have mentioned we can "expect great things" from the young Mr. Potter, who has been trained by his father, Charlus Potter, formerly Keeper for Puddlemere United. However, we must question James Potter's ability seeing as he has so far managed to prove his Quidditch talent only by being awarded Gryffindor Quidditch captain three years in a row. We have yet to see the younger Potter attract attention from any notable Teams, which provokes the question, is James Potter Big League material, or is he simply uncommonly good, a child prodigy? Although all evidence seems to point irrefutably towards the latter, it is the choice of every individual whether to blindly put their faith in Potter, or embrace a new talent, Ludo Bagman, who has already attracted plenty of Big League attention. _

The article was accompanied by a picture of a blonde girl with heavily applied lipstick and bejeweled glasses.

James stared at the article for a moment, not believing the nerve of this woman.

"Well?" Charlus questioned, raising an eyebrow at his son.

"Wait. Dad, what's that?" James pointed to the front page of the Prophet, upon which his father was currently resting his arm.

"Its just the front page, dear." Dorea answered.

"Slide it over, will you, Dad?" James asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

"Hang on a minute here, son, we're _discussing_ something!"

But James had leaned across the table and tugged the paper out from beneath his father's arm. He scanned the headlines, horror shooting through his heart in an icy wave of shock.

**Muggleborn Killings near Cokeworth**

_Cokeworth...Lily..._

"James!" Charlus thundered. "Where the ruddy hell do you think you're going?"

But James was already out of the kitchen, heading for the stairs leading to his room, without a plan, but with his mind whirling wildly.

"James? I need you to focus on what's important right now! See this is what I was talking about when I was telling you not to get distracted..."

As Charlus drifted off into yet another rant, James froze. _I need you to focus on what's important right now... _With an unpleasant thud in his stomach, James realized his father did not consider the muggleborn killings "important", at least not in comparison to the hidden article Rita had written about James. Charlus did not feel the mounting panic James had felt as he had noticed the Daily Prophet becoming increasingly peppered with news of muggleborn killings and discrimination.

"Dad..." James croaked, as his childhood innocence shattered, leaving him standing among the broken pieces. "People...people are _dying_, Dad. Isn't that _important_?"

Charlus sighed, and James detected a hint of impatience in his voice as he spoke. "Of course it is, son, but you can't let every little thing like this shake you. These things keep happening, James."

"What's up, Pro-oh. Awkward." Sirius had just bounced into the kitchen, apparently unaware of the tension-filled situation until about ten seconds previously.

James and his father stared at each other.

James turned and left, shoving the front page in Sirius's hands as he passed him.

"Cokeworth? Doesn't Evans live in-"

"Exactly."

They climbed the stairs to James's room in strained silence. James felt oddly contemplative. James had lived his life in unconditional adoration of his father. Now he was forced to question his father's very character. Meanwhile Evans could be...dead...

The door sprang open with a bang as they approached, courtesy of a spell muttered rather foully under James's breath.

James flung himself onto his bed and put his head in his hands, feeling an odd mix of anxiety for Lily, anger at his father, and overall confusion.

Moments later, he felt Sirius sit down beside him.

"Padfoot, what if-what if she-"

"Prongs. She's a smart bird. She wouldn't get herself killed."

James raised his head off of his hands. "Let's apparate over there."

"What?"

"Let's go see if she's okay." James said earnestly, wanting more than anything to put his worries to rest. Apparating to Cokeworth also provided the added bonus of getting out of the house, away from his father.

"Prongs, you can't just apparate into a Muggle town. Not even my unbelievable charm could get us out of that one. And Charlus would murder you for missing Quidditch practice."

James tensed at Sirius's mention of his father.

"Besides," Sirius continued, smirking. "If she _had_ died, they'd be able to recognize her body. All that red hair."

James did not laugh. "The article says the bodies were unidentifiable. They were so mutilated it was impossible to tell."

"Oh." The smirk slid off of Sirius's face. "Sorry, mate."

James internally debated apparating to Cokeworth regardless of what Sirius said.

"I'll just write her a letter then." James muttered, realizing he was out of options. What else could he do?

He grabbed a quill off of his desk and scrawled as quickly as he could:

_Evans,_

_You okay?_

He paused for a moment, then added.

_If I don't receive a reply back from you by tonight, I'm apparating to Cokeworth to see if you're all right. _

_James Potter_

Hoping fervently that she would actually reply to this letter considering its content, he coaxed his owl (which he had named Snitch back when he had hoped to become a Seeker) to let him tie the letter onto his leg, and then fairly hurled the owl out of the window in his haste. Snitch let out a series of indignant hoots that would have undoubtedly been rather colorful cuss words had the owl spoken English, before flapping away.

The black speck of the owl against the blue sky, a no longer visible scrap of paper tied to his leg, seemed to be a pathetic solution to his worries.

James paced back and forth anxiously, cutting across the patch of sunlight thrown onto the floor from the window. From light to dark, light to dark.

"Mate, you're hyperventilating." Sirius observed.

"Am not." But James could feel the familiar tightness in his chest, like someone had squeezed all the breath out of his lungs. He felt suddenly unable to think, as though his skull was so thick, no thoughts could enter it.

James fumbled on his desk for the innocent blue bottle and took a great gulp. Instantly, calm spread through his body, relaxing his tightened muscles, easing his breathing. James took another swallow, and his brain seemed to be functioning normally again.

"What's that?" Sirius asked, gazing curiously at the blue bottle.

"Calms me down." James said, but did not elaborate.

"Shall we go downstairs, then?" James asked, swiftly changing the subject, though immediately realizing that going downstairs was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment.

He scanned the skies hopefully for a return owl.

"She can't reply that quickly, Prongs."

"Yeah. Well," James said darkly, "I wish she could."

He climbed distractedly down the stairs, trying to rid from his mind the image of Lily, dead, vivid red hair stirring feebly in the weak wind, green eyes, blank, unseeing... _No. She can't be dead. She's safe. She's got to be safe._ James forced himself to take deep breaths and resisted the urge to dash upstairs for another sip.

As they descended toward the kitchen door, loud voices issuing from behind it jolted James out of his dark thoughts.

"Don't you see what this is doing to him, Charlus? Don't you?"

"He's going to be an international Quidditch player, Dorea! He's got to learn to handle the pressure!"

"He's only seventeen! He's got _time_-"

"Time? _Time_? Ludovic Bagman is only in his fifth year at Hogwarts and Wimbourne is already taking an interest in him. We're only lucky he's a Beater and not a Chaser or he'd put James out of business-"

"There you go again, comparing him to Ludo Bagman and everyone else out there! You act like he's terrible, and we both know that's far from true! Would it kill you to lay off him now and then?"

"Do you think the media is going to 'lay off him'? Do you think the bludgers are going to 'lay off him'?! Then how, as his coach, am _I_ supposed to 'lay of him', Dorea?"

"I don't know, Charlus, I don't know!" his mother was sobbing now. "I just hate to see him so...stressed...pressured. He shouldn't have to go through this!"

They were fighting again. And this time it was his fault. He felt Sirius's hand on his shoulder.

"It's not your fault, Prongs."

"Not my fault?" James snarled, the irrepressible temper he had never learned to control bubbling out of him at once. "They're arguing about _me_, Padfoot. Don't tell me it's not my bloody fault!"

"Okay, mate, okay." Sirius stepped back and lifted his arms in a gesture of innocence, concern and a trace of hurt in his gray eyes.

James immediately regretted his outburst. Looking at Sirius's face, he realized that Charlus and Dorea's arguments affected Sirius as much as they affected him. They were the only proper parents Sirius had really known, after all.

"Padfoot-"

"Don't worry about it, Prongs." Sirius said, grinning as both boys tried valiantly to ignore the continued argument in the room behind them. "C'mon. Let's go chuck some Bludgers around."

And as they soared into the air, wind on their faces, a Beaters' Bat in Sirius's hand and an evil grin on his face, James realized there was no one else who could quell his temper like Padfoot. Sirius was the only one who understood that James's anger could not be dissolved, only redirected or distracted. Quidditch had always been James's refuge because it did both, allowing James to vent his anger by shoving Quaffles into the goals, and letting him bury his fury in the wind that rushed past his ears in great gusts.

Dodging Bludgers, the Quaffle tucked under his arm, James relished the freedom of playing Quidditch simply for fun. Not for the Hogwarts Championship Cup, not for his father, not for the hopes of making it to the Quidditch Pro-Leagues, but for himself, purely for the pleasure of the wind in his hair and the sun on his face.

Suddenly, he broke away from the pitch, flying higher and higher, turning loop-the-loops, as though if he flew fast enough, he could escape all his worries, Lily, his father, his parents' fighting, Quidditch, the blue bottle.

"Show off." grumbled Sirius somewhere below him, aiming a bludger at him.

James swerved, diving back down to where Sirius hovered just below the goal hoops. "Ready to get your arse whooped?"

Sirius smirked. "I think not. You may be Mr.-Pro-Quidditch-Player-In-The-Making, but to me, you're just Prongs, with a head too big for his own good."

For a golden hour, they played Quidditch in the light of the setting sun.

"James! Sirius!" Dorea called.

James drifted lower. He always dreaded this moment, the moment in which he had to return to earth. When he flew, his head could be in the clouds, blissful and free, but now he was forced to return to the terribly inconvenient constraints of gravity and reality.

With a sigh, he sunk the last few feet to the ground and dismounted, and they walked back up to the manor, laughing and discussing the game they just played.

Dorea smiled affectionately at her boys. James noticed her slightly swollen eyelids and the unmistakable weariness around the corners of her eyes that all the charms in the world couldn't hide. He remembered the worry in his mother's voice as she yelled at his father, begging him to take it a little easier on their son. James hugged her briefly and wordlessly. Sirius followed, leaning down to wrap his arms around the woman who had taken him in on that stormy night two years before.

They leaned their brooms against the wall on the porch. James turned back toward to horizon, ruffling his hair absentmindedly.

Sirius read his mind with a roll of his eyes. "I'm telling you, Prongs, she's fine. And stop staring at the sky every few seconds, that letter isn't going to come any faster."

James ignored him.

"Who?" asked Dorea, looking from James to Sirius.

"Lily Evans." Sirius said, characteristically quick to embarrass James, though his voice lacked the gleeful tone it usually took on when they were discussing this subject.

"Oh." said Dorea, and her eyebrows crinkled.

"She lives in Cokeworth." Sirius explained, "There were some Muggle-born killings reported there last night. James owled her to see if she was okay."

"Oh, my." Dorea said softly, looking rather upset.

James ignored their exchange. He knew Lily disliked him, hated him even, and had rejected any attempt of his to communicate with her in the past summers. Surely though, she would reply if he only wanted to know if she was..alive? Safe?

When it became evident to Sirius that no owl was going to come hurtling into view out of the sunset, he grabbed James by the back of his shirt and hauled him in through the kitchen door. ("Ow! What the hell, Padfoot?")

Later James would reflect that it was in moments like these, innocent and light, that he least aware of just how much his life was about to change.

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**Author's Note:** The second and third chapter were previously one, but I split them so that one chapter wouldn't be ridiculously long.

Here we get a little hint of James's calming draught addiction (did you catch that? ;) and...tension. This story is going to be different from my other ones. For one, I have a plan! Therefore there won't be any more sudden lacks of inspiration that would cause me to put this story on hiatus/abandon it like *koff*MISCHIEFMANAGED*koff*

Anyways, there is something a lot more serious that I'd like to get out there. I want to write this story as...real as possible. Okay getting a bit personal here, but I have never seen a happy marriage, and therefore I can't write fluffy romances realistically. Yes, Lily and James are going to have their fluff and their joy, but there will be a stark and intentional contrast between their relationship and that of Dorea and Charlus's. I see a lot of...to put this lightly-crap in my life and other people's and I will write stories that reflect it. It is my hope that if anyone else out there is going through something similar to anything described in this story, you know you are not alone and that there are people going through what you're going through and will understand you. If anyone is going through a tough time and you just want someone to listen to you, I'm always here. Shoot me a PM or something. My tumblr will be up soon as well so that can be a way for anyone to contact me anonymously if needed.

Oh, and review, please. :)

Yours,

VictoryNike

7/29/13


	3. Altostratus Part Two

**Disclaimer:** The characters, setting, background story, etc. all belong to JK Rowling.

* * *

Chapter 3

_Altostratus Part Two_

* * *

_Altostratus clouds are gray or blue-gray. They cover the entire sky, or patches of it, and precede rainy storms._

* * *

The evening's happy feelings were shattered the moment they crossed the threshold.

The family house elf stood in front of the wooden table. Upon seeing them, she bowed deeply, and spoke squeakily. "Master Potter would like to see all of you in his study." she shifted her feet nervously. "He is saying he is wanting to speak to Master James particularly. He is wanting you to go up right away, sirs and Mistress Dorea."

Dorea nodded. "We'd better go up, dears."

Sirius shot James a fleeting, furtive glance. James shrugged in response and ascended the stairs to his father's study, Sirius and Dorea in tow.

He bypassed the door to his own room, journeying down the corridor to the handsome oak door. James neglected to knock, instead shoving the door open, causing Charlus to raise an eyebrow at him from across a highly polished, impressive wood table.

"You wanted to see me, Dad." James said stiffly.

"Right, son...I understand some things in the paper this morning upset you, but as your coach, it is my duty to give priority to your Quidditch career." Charlus said, transitioning to a business-like tone. "Sit down, all of you."

The three of them sat at the table. Sirius looked apprehensively at James. James sent him a half grin.

"James, your mother and I both believe you have reached the stage in your career in which you need to begin considering different aspects of your Quidditch career."

"What do you mean?" James asked cautiously, his father's callous comments from earlier still fresh in his mind.

"A Quidditch career," said Charlus, rising from the table and and pacing in front of the large window behind it, giving himself an impressive, silhouetted effect. "Is more than simply your abilities on the Quidditch pitch."

"In short, James," continued Charlus, "It is no longer enough to be uncommonly talented at Quidditch. Your mother and I have both decided,"-here Charlus nodded at Dorea-"that it is time we start looking into how to get the Big Leagues to notice you."

Something in James perked up. Despite his preoccupations, news of the advancement in his Quidditch career was what he had been waiting for...

"The best way to do this would be to be noticed by the media in major way," said Charlus thoughtfully, "Such as the front page of a popular publication, The Daily Prophet, preferably,"

James pictured his grinning face on the front page, falling from the ceiling as the owls delivered the post at breakfast, his face, and a glowing article about him falling into the hands of everyone who bought the paper...

"As you are aware, you have already received a good deal of publicity, being my son," Charlus paused to beam at James, "and following in my footsteps, no less..."

Charlus Potter had enjoyed a short but very celebrated career as Keeper for Puddlemere United until a mysterious injury had ended Charlus's career for good. James had never been given the full details of what had happened to his dad.

"However," Charlus's tone turned sour, and James felt the inevitable catch, the reason for his father's praise, approaching. "The attention that you have been receiving from the media lately has been..._scathing_, to say the least..."

James scowled. Trust that good-for-nothing gossip Rita to create trouble for him.

"That article in today's paper, who wrote it, again? Somebody new..." Charlus's tone was forcedly casual, the light interest in his voice fake, James knew this was a question to which Charlus probably already knew the answer. James felt an unshakable feeling of foreboding settle upon him like a heavy cloak.

"Who was it now..." Charlus tapped a finger on his chin in an exaggerated gesture of thought, as though he was genuinely trying to recall who had written the article that had upset him so much that morning. "Ah, yes, _Rita Skeeter_, wasn't it?"

James nodded.

"You know her, do you Sirius?" asked Charlus swiftly.

"Huh?" Sirius sat up quickly, evidently not having anticipated being suddenly drawn into the discussion. "Oh yeah. Yeah. She's in our year. Spread some nasty rumors about us last year, didn't she?"

Sirius scowled. "Right crazy bird, that one." he added.

"Thank you, Sirius," said Charlus, who looked as though this was not what he had been hoping to hear from Sirius.

"James, what was your opinion on this morning's article?" Charlus asked quickly, pinning James with his eyes.

"Well I wondered why they let a seventeen year old with no qualification whatsoever besides being Hogwarts' biggest gossip write an article for the Daily Prophet," James muttered under his breath.

Sirius sniggered.

James snide remark was not lost upon Charlus, however, who smiled dangerously.

"The Daily Prophet seems to think otherwise, James," said Charlus, renewing his pacing across the window. "The wizarding world loves gossip and scandal. They simply eat it up. Rita's mother is rather prominent in the Daily Prophet herself, Margarita Skeeter-"

"The one that writes that crazy advice column? _Mama Margarita _or something like that?" Sirius shuddered visibly. "No_ wonder_ Rita turned out like that-"

"That's enough, Sirius." Charlus said sternly, and Sirius obliged.

"As I was saying, Mrs. Skeeter managed to get her daughter an internship at the Daily Prophet, and as you can see, little Rita has_ quite _the flair for journalism."

Sirius made a suspicious choking noise. James vented his mounting apprehension for what was to come by pounding Sirius vigorously on the back.

"Boys," said Dorea warningly, glancing fearfully at Charlus.

They ceased their antics as Charlus cleared his throat.

"In fact today at the office, Bradley was telling me-he's got a brother who's working at the Daily Prophet- that the Prophet's rather happy with Rita. In fact, they've got her on a contract that extends through the school year,"

"Er-uh, pardon me, Dad, but I don't see how this has anything to do with me?" James asked tentatively.

Charlus flashed James another forced, dangerous smile.

"Oh, I think you already know." said Charlus, returning to his chair and placing his interlocked fingers behind his head, leaning back in a gesture of relaxation.

James shuddered inwardly at this...this _show _his father was putting on. It could not mean well.

"Well," said James, rubbing his neck, thinking, "I suppose it seems like she's not exactly a fan of me, is she?"

James chuckled weakly.

"Precisely," said Charlus, leaning forward. "Now the solution to this problem is really rather simple, don't you think? What do you suppose, Sirius?"

"I dunno...somehow make Skeeter a fan of Pro-I mean, James?" Sirius said, bewildered.

"Very good, Sirius!" said Charlus with the air of a schoolteacher commending an exceptionally bright student.

James was beginning to feel extremely creeped out by Charlus's fake enthusiasm and attempts to draw Sirius into the conversation. Charlus knew very well, James deduced slowly, that James would be inclined to be involved in anything that involved Sirius.

"So what are we going to do?" joked Sirius, "Have James flirt with her or something?"

"_Exactly_."

Upon hearing Charlus's voice, James paused halfway through whacking Sirius on the back of the head, his arm hanging awkwardly in the air.

Sirius covered his mouth with his hands, looking absolutely horrified. "What-I didn't mean..she's not even _hot_!" Sirius cried.

"Sirius!" cried Dorea reproachfully.

"James is a strapping young lad," said Charlus, slapping James on the back, "I'm sure she'll be no problem for you, eh James? Never met a girl you couldn't charm, have you son?"

James's voice seemed to have disappeared as various reactions battled for dominance. First and foremost was the desire to run screaming from the room, to rid himself from this horrible idea and the presence of his father, which he suddenly found revolting. The second was the urge to laugh uncontrollably and shout "Good one, Dad!".

Unfortunately for James, Sirius did not seem to have lost his voice as well. "Yeah, except Evans. The only girl who ever saw him as the scrawny git he is instead of the whole Quidditch hunk thing," snickered Sirius.

"The Evans girl that lives in Cokeworth, Sirius?" inquired Charlus, raising his eyebrows.

Sirius seemed to realize that he had said the wrong thing at the wrong time. He glanced quickly at James. "Um-yeah..that is to say, she might be, or she might not be..."

For once, Sirius seemed to be unable to talk his way out of trouble. James was familiar with the feeling. The two of them could charm their way out out of the bad graces of any figure of authority, with the exception of Charlus Potter, who always saw through their schemes.

"Yeah, she is." interrupted James, putting Sirius's babbling to rest. "And as a matter of fact, she's warming up to me"-here he glared at Sirius, daring him to contradict-"so I'm afraid I'm pretty much good as taken, Dad."

He stared across the table to meet his father's eyes, matching hazel irises sizing up one another, peering into their golden depths, searching for weakness.

"Sirius," Charlus said loudly and clearly, "Is he or is he not currently going out with this Evans girl? It is my understanding that he is not."

"Erm." said Sirius uncomfortably. "I dunno."

"What do you mean, you don't know?" demanded Charlus. "There is no doubt in my mind that you are privy to these sort of matters when it comes to James. We both know that you know, so answer my question, Sirius."

"Well...not right now," Sirius said, sending an apologetic glance in James's direction, "but the way things are going he might be...eventually."

"Well that settles it," said Charlus, "James is currently available, and his Quidditch career is always his first priority. Margarita Skeeter has a signing at Flourish and Blotts the Monday before you're due to return to school for her new book. "We'll head to Diagon Alley to pick up your books the same day. You can speak to Rita then, James, maybe take her to Fortescue's for some ice cream."

"Hold on," said James, his temper bubbling over the brink, "This is bloody ridiculous! I-I won't do it!"

It occurred to James that he probably sounded like a petulant toddler, but he was too angry to care.

"Oh, won't you?" shot Charlus back, his matching temper flaring up as well.

"I don't believe this crap! You want me to..to _use _her?"

"She'll get as much out of you as you will out of her, James!"

"Oh I get it," James let out a short bark of mirthless laughter. "You want me to fuck her, to use her so she'll write _wonderful _things about me and I can get access to her mother's contacts?"

"James!" cried Dorea, shocked.

"I've had enough of this!" thundered Charlus, rising from his chair, his lithe, broad, Keeper's frame as intimidating as always.

"Charlus, don't," begged Dorea, "There's got to be another way...please..."

"We've already discussed this, Dorea." said Charlus sharply, and Dorea fell silent.

Charlus walked around the table to his son, looking up into his face. Once more, although James was the taller of the two, he felt ten years old again when he had dropped the Quaffle in one of his town league Quidditch games after being taking a Bludger to the head. Charlus had been furious, telling James that he should never drop the Quaffle, no matter how badly he was injured.

"_Even if you're unconscious, you clutch that Bludger, do you hear me, son? If you drop the Bludger, the other team could take possession! I don't care if you're bleeding your bloody life out, hold on to that Quaffle for Merlin's sake, boy!"_

Now as Charlus stood before James, his broad shouldered, muscular form contrasting with James's longer, lankier, Chaser's build, James felt fear bubble up his throat, choking him. He wished desperately for the blue bottle, fighting his instinct to close his eyes tightly to avoid seeing the disappointment in his father's eyes, the disappointment he had fought to replace with pride since he was seven years old.

"Now you tell me, son. When you were seven years old, you came up to me, and do you know what you said?" Charlus demanded, "You said, 'Dad, I love Quidditch and I want to be a pro Quidditch Player more than anything,' _that _is what you said, James,"

"You told me that ten years ago, James Potter, now you tell me, do you still want to be a pro Quidditch Player _more than anything_?"

"Yes," James whispered, thinking of his name on the back of a Puddlemere United jersey, of the adoring crowds, of his leather-gloved fingers punching the air after sinking the Quaffle through the hoop to a resounding cheer...

"I can't hear you," said Charlus.

"YES!" Yelled James, and Charlus took a step back.

"That's what I wanted to hear. Now do what it takes. If Rita Skeeter is our way to the Big Leagues, that's what you'll do."

James swallowed. His father would not relent. He nearly laughed in mirthless disbelief. The sad part of this is that he could, he _could_ believe that his father would do this to him. His father had a one-track mind and nothing else mattered to him at all, nothing but Quidditch.

"But...but..."

"The thing is, James," said Charlus, sighing, "Rita's going to be big, and if she isn't writing good things about you, she'll be writing bad things about you."

The truth of Charlus's statement hit James like the Hogwarts Express. He sat down defeatedly, one last argument springing to his lips.

"Dad...this was supposed to be about _Quidditch_. The game, not the media, not Rita!"

"Son, you're a bloody fantastic Quidditch player, if I say so myself," Charlus said, smiling, and despite the circumstances, James felt his heart leap at the touch of pride in his father's tone. "All you need is for the big leagues to recognize that. That's all."

"It all depends on how much you care about your career, James. I won't force you, but remember all the hard work you've done, the hours you've trained. You don't want all that to go to waste, do you?" Charlus continued, quietly.

Charlus smiled at his son. "It's just until you get the attention of the big leagues, then you can take it from there by yourself. Use that old Potter charm on her, won't you son?"

Charlus chuckled to himself, patted James on the back as he and Dorea left the room, and just like that, the matter was closed.

James stared in shock at the door that was slowly falling shut and mouthed the final words to himself, the words his father had forgotten.

He was seven years old, and telling his father he wanted to be a professional Quidditch player.

"_Dad, I love Quidditch and I want to be a pro Quidditch Player more than anything..._just like you_."_

* * *

**Author's Note: **Hey apologies to any of you that got an alert for a third chapter and realized it was just the last half of the second chapter; I split it in half to make it easier to read (although I didn't get any reviews for the last chapter yet so I don't know if that's a problem):

The purpose of the first few chapters was to really cement James's relationship with his dad, (more of that to come though) because he'll play a very important role. Please don't hate on Charlus yet ;) his motivations are to come as well.

I also want to copy paste my author's note from the previous chapter in case any of you missed it, because I feel like it's kind of important.

Anyways, there is something a lot more serious that I'd like to get out there. I want to write this story as...real as possible. Okay getting a bit personal here, but I have never seen a happy marriage, and therefore I can't write fluffy romances realistically. Yes, Lily and James are going to have their fluff and their joy, but there will be a stark and intentional contrast between their relationship and that of Dorea and Charlus's. I see a lot of...to put this lightly-crap in my life and other people's and I will write stories that reflect it. It is my hope that if anyone else out there is going through something similar to anything described in this story, you know you are not alone and that there are people going through what you're going through and will understand you. If anyone is going through a tough time and you just want someone to listen to you, I'm always here. Shoot me a PM or something. My tumblr will be up soon as well so that can be a way for anyone to contact me anonymously if needed.

Please review :)

Yours,

VictoryNike

7/30/13


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